


i might not be the one, could you settle for half?

by ohunshines



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Usage, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohunshines/pseuds/ohunshines
Summary: Chan doesn't know if Woojin will be the one that'll end up staying but he so desperately wants him to be.





	i might not be the one, could you settle for half?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a weird mix of "City Lights" by Yunho ft. Taeyong and "Lego House" by Ed Sheeran  
> Title from "No Different" by Epik High ft. Yuna

It wasn’t supposed to end up this way.

Woojin was supposed to be nothing but a one-night stand to erase all the bitter remnants of yesterday.

Chan was supposed leave before Woojin woke and forget about how he was held like he was the only person that mattered.

Woojin wasn’t supposed to wake up before him.

Chan wasn’t supposed to stay.

 

Chan loves the feeling of Woojin’s fingers in his hair. There’s something about the way his digits slide effortlessly through the mess of curls on his head like they were meant to be there.

In a lot of ways, Chan thinks that Woojin is meant to be his.

Woojin is humming softly, nails scratching softly at Chan’s nape and making his eyelids droop in contentment. It’s a lazy Saturday in bed, one where Woojin doesn’t have to worry about rushing off to work and one where Chan doesn’t have enough time alone to think about all the mistakes he’s accumulated up to this point. He is molded perfectly into Woojin’s side, head fitting into the crook of the older’s neck, ankles hooked around the other’s, and hand pressed firmly against his chest like he’s holding on so Woojin can’t disappear. They’re like pieces of a puzzle.

But they’re not pieces that fit together, no matter how much Chan wants them to.

His mind keeps contradicting itself. There are a million and one thoughts rushing through his brain, and Chan just can’t seem to focus on any of them. Except maybe the way Woojin’s arms just feel so right around him like this.

He really shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

Woojin’s fingers slowly come to a halt and the lack of movement makes Chan twitch. “Why’d you stop?” he mumbles. He burrows his head in further, nosing against Woojin’s neck and trying to make himself fit in the edges.

The deep rumble of laughter that comes from Woojin’s lips and vibrates his chest makes Chan feel fluttery on the inside. “I thought you were asleep,” Woojin says. His fingers resume their movement, arms tightening just enough around Chan’s frame. “I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Thought a lot,” Chan murmurs, words jumbled together because of how warm and fuzzy everything feels. “Still thinking a lot.”

“What is there to think about?”

The response is delayed and whispered. “Dumb things.”

“None of your thoughts are dumb, Chan.”

Chan can only focus on the way Woojin chest rises and falls under his palm and how the space between them closes every time Woojin inhales. He wants to be even closer, to make it so that there is no gap so he can feel like he’s _whole_ for once in his life.

“Chan?” Woojin’s voice is distant, even if they’re only mere millimeters apart.

There is a war going on in his head and the casualties are overwhelming on both sides. Chan doesn’t know who will win, but all he knows is that he’ll lose either way. He lets out a shaky exhale, warm breath fanning over the skin of Woojin’s neck and causing him to tighten his grip on Chan’s locks momentarily. Instead of replying, Chan evades, says nothing, and runs away from his problems like he’s done for the past twenty-two years of his life.

 

Woojin wonders how one person can be so unsteady yet so stable. Chan is a walking enigma, a living contradiction, a breathing mystery Woojin wants to unravel. With each layer he uncovers, each article of clothing he strips off, there is another hidden beneath.

Chan wants love but is too afraid to.

Chan wants to forget but all he does is remember.

 

Chan doesn’t remember the last time he went home. His dingy little place sits empty and dark while he’s here, wiggling his toes in soft carpet. It’s been a month since he’s unofficially moved in with Woojin – a month and a half since they started whatever this was – and there hasn’t been a day that went by where he opens his eyes in the morning and thinks of running away.

He’s done a lot of that.

Running away from the harsh words and _you’re never good enough_ lectures. Away from the people who smile at his face and then stab him in the back when he turns around. Away from the commitment, the betrayal, the unrelenting cycle of painful happily never afters. It’s easy to run, to spit harsh words, to do the backstabbing, to doing the breaking instead of being broken. The system should be easy to cheat. There’re no such thing as lingering strings. Cut that shit away. Snip, snip motherfucker. No regrets left behind and move onto the next one. In the end, he’ll be the winner, the one who will have his heart intact. It’s _easy_. Inhale, _we’re done._ Exhale, _goodbye._

How many hearts has Chan broken?

One.

When Woojin shuffles into the apartment after busting his ass off for eight hours and gives him a goofy smile, Chan feels the broken heart mend a little bit.

The system should be easy to cheat, but there’s nothing easy about Kim Woojin.

“It’s Tuesday, you know what that means.” Woojin’s eyes are bright even though fatigue clings onto his skin. “I bought Popeyes!”

Chan thinks he’s glad that he stayed, but his feet are telling him to get away before he loses yet another battle.

 

Woojin wakes with a start. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, the other reaching out to the right side of the bed to feel nothing. He lets out a soft groan and closes his eyes, fingers rubbing cold sheets in between them.

Wait. Cold sheets? Nothing?

He sits up so fast he gives himself vertigo. The familiar yet foreign name slips out from between his lips before he even realizes it. He flings the blanket off himself, rushing out of the room while his eyes scan the dark apartment for Chan. He finds him crouched in front of the door, head hidden between his knees, rocking back and forth slowly like something out of a horror movie. Woojin would be terrified if not for the soft sniffles that are coming from the end of the hallway. In that moment, all he can think of is how relieved he is that Chan didn’t disappear. But the relief dissipates like smoke when he registers that the sniffles are coupled with choked back sobs that never make it past chewed-raw lips.

“Chan?”

Chan seems to curl even more into himself, shoulders shaking with the effort to remain quiet. It’s too bad that Woojin is already making his way down the hallway. His attempts to disappear are futile when Woojin wraps his arms around Chan’s shoulders, wide yet so small.

“Why are you sitting here?” Woojin is certainly awake now, scanning Chan’s body and running his hands down Chan’s arms to gently tug them away from where they’re circled around his knees. His skin is cold to the touch. Woojin also realizes that Chan is wearing his beat-up Converse though the laces aren’t tied. “Did you go out?” Chan shakes his head without lifting it instead of offering a verbal reply, but Woojin takes it. Instead, he tucks Chan under his chin, hands rubbing comforting circles into his back. “I can take you wherever you want to go tomorrow, okay? I promise. But it’s late now, and you shouldn’t leave this late at night, especially without letting me know your plans.”

Chan nods jerkily.

“Let’s go back to sleep, hmm?”

“I wanna go home,” Chan finally whispers. His voice cracks at the end and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“Tomorrow, Chan. I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I can leave tomorrow,” Chan continues. He’s still speaking with that small tone sounds like he’s hurting so much.

Woojin blinks in confusion, tilting his head to find Chan’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

Chan lapses back into silence again and then finally shakes his head after a long pause. “Never mind.” He untangles himself from Woojin’s hold and wipes away his tears with the back of his hand. “You have work, let’s go back to sleep.”

When he wakes the next morning, Woojin wonders if the episode at three a.m. was all a dream because Chan greets him with a sleepy smile and a slurred, “morning, Woojinnie.”

 

_Chan doesn’t like the way the soju burns as it slides down his throat, but at least he won’t have to taste that nasty betrayal on his tongue. He doesn’t know why he’s here. It’s not like Minho will come back even if Chan goes searching for him. If anything, Minho would avoid coming here, just because he knows this would be the first place Chan would go to look for him._

_The bottle eventually goes empty, and Chan licks the last drop from the rim of his little shot glass. As soon as that goes away, the betrayal is back. He drops his head on the surface of the plastic table, fingers clenched tightly around the glass like it could bring back what already left and erase all the mistakes that were already made._

_He lets out mumbled curses under his breath as he sits up straight. Chan drags a hand through the mop of hair on his head, fingers getting stuck at the end of the mess of curls. He tugs a little too hard in his frustration and feels the sharp pain of his hair being pulled out of its follicles._

_“Hyung, this really isn’t it.”_

_“Shut up, Hyunjin. Tell your mom I want another bottle.”_

_The younger makes a face at his words. “You should stop bleaching your hair. You’ll be bald by the time you’re twenty-five.”_

_“Hyunjin, shut_ up _.” Chan’s face is screwed together in annoyance. “Are you going to serve me, or should I take my business somewhere else?”_

_Hyunjin clicks his tongue but gets off the plastic stool he’s sitting on. The little chair makes a gross scraping noise on the concrete that has Chan cringing. “You would never betray my mom like that.” He sticks his tongue out at the older and walks back to his mom’s stand._

_Hyunjin was right. Chan would never betray his mom like that. Would never betray_ anyone _like that. So why was it so easy for others to do it so easily to him?_

 

There is something distant in Chan’s eyes during dinner. He doesn’t say much and chews slowly while pushing his food around on his plate. Normally Woojin wouldn’t notice, but after the events of the night before, he can’t stop himself from watching Chan in his periphery. He half expected Chan to be gone when he came home from work. The warm feeling in his chest when he found Chan napping on the couch made the stress from the day disappear.

At least Chan can find it in himself to stay.

Woojin is selfish, he knows. He wants so desperately for Chan to sleep here, to live here, to be _here._ Still, he knows very well that Chan struggles with the idea of not knowing where he belongs. No matter how much Woojin tries to convince him that he belongs _here_ and _anywhere_ he chooses to, Chan won’t accept it. It’s hard to make someone who has never known what acceptance is like to feel at home. It’s the broken pieces of a man trying so desperately to stay whole that makes Woojin want to scoop Chan up into his arms and never let him go.

But if Chan wants to be free, Woojin can’t stop him. Just like he can’t stop Chan from walking out the door and never turning back. Just like he can’t stop Chan from ending this weird dynamic they have going on and pretending like the past month and a half was a prolonged fling. Just like he can’t stop Chan from breaking his own heart again and again because that’s all he’s ever known.

So all he does is simply reach out and wrap his hands around Chan’s like it’s a normal occurrence, not paying any mind to how the younger looks up in surprise. He continues to eat normally, though his heart is pounding as he anticipates Chan’s next move. There is no audible breath being let out, but Woojin allows himself a soft smile when Chan fixes his hand so their fingers fill in the empty gaps in each other.

 

Chan wants a lot of things, like to know what it’s like to be treasured and loved and not lied to and taken advantage of. He wants to know what a real relationship feels like. The ones he sees in movies where the main actors fall in love and death till they part. He wants to live in his own fairy tale, where his own prince in shining armor will come rescue him on a white horse and take him away from all the struggles. He’ll never have to experience hardships again.

At one point, he really thought he could be his own prince, but of course life never really lets things go his way.

Now he’s nothing more than just bits and pieces of a younger, more naïve Bang Chan that craves to be loved like in the movies. To be held like in the movies. To be rescued like in the movies.

_Kim Woojin, can you be my prince in shining armor?_

 

_Woojin doesn’t know what it is about the blonde that makes him want to reach out and cup his cheeks and kiss him until none of them can breathe. He doesn’t even know the guy’s name. All he sees is dry hair, damaged from being bleached one too many times and dark bags clinging under empty eyes. The way he eyes Woojin from his little table, holding eye contact without blinking, is close to the point of blatant staring._

_He’s different, but Woojin’s not sure if it’s in a good way._

_“Hyung, my mom wants to know if you’re going to order another plate of soondae or if you’re going to sit there and take up a table.” Hyunjin is making that weird face of his, where his lips are pressed into a thin line so his cheeks are more prominent. “Also, do you know Chan hyung? You guys keep staring at each other.”_

_“Chan?” Woojin looks back at the blonde man and tilts his head in contemplation. “I will after today.”_

_Hyunjin looks confused. “What? Wait, do you want another plate or not?”_

_“I’ll pay, Hyunjin.”_

_Woojin watches as Hyunjin shuffles off, only to be flagged down by the man who has been staring at him for the better half of an hour. He watches as the man – Chan – pays as well and gets up. He watches as Chan gets closer and closer and eventually leaves. He watches Chan disappear into the night._

_The small napkin in Woojin’s hand feels like a victory even if he’s done nothing._

Growing up, he was never told that his efforts were enough. Chan tried so hard in everything, from sports to academics to just being a good son. But it was never enough. There was always more to be wanted, a bar that kept moving out of reach once his fingers brushed it. Everything he did ended up in harsh scoldings and silent nights locked up in his own room to think and think and think about things that are out of his control. Simply put, Chan doesn’t know what it’s like to be enough.

Jaemin didn’t think he was enough.

Hyojin didn’t either.

And Yeseo.

And Minho.

Minho.

Out of all of them, that name hurt the most.

When Woojin is asleep next to him, warm skin against his own, Chan wonders if his name will join that list.

 

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what he’s afraid of. Maybe it’s falling too hard and having the other not want to hold on anymore. Maybe it’s running away from something that could turn out to be more. Maybe it’s the idea of venturing into uncharted territory. Chan doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a lot of things. And that very thought frustrates him to no end.

If he can’t even figure out what he wants, how could he start thinking about what Woojin would want?

From there, it’s a steady spiral downwards. Does Woojin even think they have something going on? Does this mean the same thing for Woojin like it does for him? Does Woojin want him here? Does Woojin even love him?

Scratch that last one.

Woojin doesn’t love him. He’s too messy for that. Too empty. Too broken. He wants too much and gives too little. Woojin deserves so much more. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be sleeping here. Woojin needs someone else.

Woojin doesn’t need him.

Fuck.

 

_Chan doesn’t really expect to get a text that night._

_His fingers are sweaty as he swipes to read the text. The brightness of the phone in his dark room burns his eyes, but Chan likes to indulge in self-destructive activities every once in a while for the hell of it. He reads the words out loud, his whispers swallowed up by the empty air. They make him smile a little. His fingers squeak against the screen when they type out his reply because he’s sweating too much._

_They’re meeting up next week at Hyunjin’s mom’s soondae stand. They’ll sit together this time. Maybe they’ll talk a little, get to know each other a bit. Chan’s not sure yet, it’s too far into the future to predict, and that’s not quite something he can do – though he does know that four out of four times he went out on a first it hasn’t ended up well. That makes him hesitate for a moment, eyebrows furrowing at Woojin’s text._

_But Chan thinks about the fairy tales and the promises of a nicer tomorrow – even if they were just empty words from Minho – and lets himself fall. This time things might be different, he hopes._

_He falls asleep thinking of the way Woojin looked at him: curiosity, warmth, like he was human._

Woojin blames his unsteady sleep pattern on how used he is to having Chan beside him. Whenever Chan wanders out of bed in the middle of the night to get some water or tosses and turns because he can’t sleep, Woojin finds himself waking up minutes after. Depending on where Chan is, Woojin will scoop the younger into his arms and bring him back to bed, or just hold him closer. Chan seems to like that a lot, burying his face into the crook of Woojin’s neck and circling his arms around his torso. They fall asleep together and wake up together. It’s a pattern. Together. Chan and Woojin. Woojin and Chan.

Except today, when Woojin wakes, Chan isn’t beside him. Or in the kitchen. Or the bathroom. Or even in the living room. The pair of beat up Converse that usually sits by the front door is gone.

 

The apartment is dark and empty. Chan makes himself comfortable in the middle of his bed, pulling the cold, cold sheets over him and curling up on his side. It’s really not comfortable at all. He already misses Woojin’s warmth, Woojin’s arms, and Woojin.

But Chan didn’t come back to sleep. This is his way of escaping, of running away from all the what ifs and possible broken hearts. If he leaves first, he won’t bear the brunt of the pain. He won’t have to go through that again.

Chan is scared of being abandoned. Scared of being told yet again that he isn’t enough. He’s heard that too many times to count and it _hurts_ to pour all you have into something and be told that it _just isn’t enough_. Chan doesn’t know how much more he can give before he breaks. What is left to give if he’s nothing but an empty shell of the person he was yesterday?

His phone vibrates, a sharp sound that cuts through the silence in the room like a knife. Chan flinches, reaching out towards the bright light of his phone to check it. Even if the person calling him is someone he so desperately wants, Chan can’t do this. Can’t think about the possible heartbreaks and pain and _this won’t work out, you’re not enough_. Chan doesn’t want to cry, but he does, cradling the vibrating device to chest like it’s a lifeline. He falls asleep that way, pretending that it’s a part of Woojin he’s holding onto and how in the morning, all this will really be over and he won’t have to think about how his heart is in pieces once again.

 

Woojin regrets not coming over to Chan’s place more often. He’s been there twice: once to take Chan home after their first night together and once more to pick up the man just a few days later. It’s purely on instinct that he manages to reach the familiar apartment building, and Woojin is contemplating going to door to door to find Chan. There’s fear. Raw fear that Chan is off doing something he’ll regret. Woojin can worry about the ache in his chest later. Chan is his priority. Chan has to be safe. Once he’s confirmed that, he’ll leave. Maybe show up at Hyunjin’s mom’s soondae stand and drink a little bit. Maybe Hyunjin will listen to him vent. But before he can knock on the first door, he sees a familiar flash of blonde hair and then a pair of tired eyes that look just as surprised to see him.

“Chan?” Woojin whispers.

“Why are you here?” Chan’s voice seems to echo down the hallway.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. You left without telling me last night. You didn’t pick up my calls. I was so worried.” Woojin’s voice is wavering. He takes a step forward but freezes when Chan steps back. “Chan?”

“Please leave,” Chan says in a small voice. “I-I can’t do this.” Chan looks away, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in pain.

Woojin pretends he can’t feel his heart break into a million pieces. “I know. I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Please tell me you’re okay,” he implores. “I don’t need an explanation. I just need to hear the words, ‘I’m okay’ and then I’ll leave, I promise.” Chan still refuses to meet his eyes. Even from a distance, Woojin can still see the silent tears that slide down Chan’s pale cheeks. His mind is screaming at him to scoop up the smaller man and hold him until he won’t cry anymore, but he knows, Woojin _knows_ that doing that will make Chan cry even more. “Chan,” Woojin whispers.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what, Chan?”

“Like I mean something to you.” Chan’s eyes are watery and red when he opens them again. “Like we were something.”

Woojin is almost at a loss for words. “You _do_ mean something to me. Chan, what do you think this last month was?” Woojin ventures a step forward again, relief flooding his veins when Chan doesn’t move away. “Chan, I know you’ve made up your mind. I’ll respect that, okay? Just please tell me you’re okay.” He keeps moving forward with small steps until he’s an arm’s length away from the younger male. He reaches out and thumbs away Chan’s tears carefully. “You’re okay right? Chan?”

“Say it again,” Chan murmurs. His eyelids flutter closed at Woojin’s touch and the tension from his squared shoulders melts away.

“Say what?”

“The first part.”

Woojin hesitates for a moment before finally closing the gap between them. Chan’s lips are slightly chapped but they feel right. Chan leans in slightly when they meet and Woojin shifts his hands so that he’s cupping Chan’s cheeks instead. “You mean so much to me,” Woojin whispers when they pull away.

“Am I enough?” Chan whispers back. Their noses are slightly brushing each other’s as he peers into Woojin’s eyes with his watery ones. “Enough for you?”

“Plenty.”

 

_“Where’s the confident guy who dropped off his number and walked away?”_

_Woojin’s voice is teasing, but Chan can’t help but feel embarrassment at the memory. He really doesn’t know what got into him that night. Was it the alcohol? Minho’s memory driving him to do more? Pure dumb impulse? Chan settles on shrugging instead, leaning across the table to fill Woojin’s shot glass to the brim with soju again. If he doesn’t speak, he won’t spill out his heart to this stranger._

_“Well, either way, I’m glad we’re talking. It would have been weird to communicate through Hyunjin.” Woojin takes a personal victory when that seems to pull a smile out of the blonde. “Can I know why you were staring?” Chan goes red from his cheeks up to his ears. He stabs at a piece of soondae on the plate and chews on that instead of replying. “Hey, we can’t have a conversation if I’m the only one talking,” Woojin teases._

_Woojin still has a smile on his face though, so Chan is assured that he isn’t upset at his lack of responses. He shakes his head. “Why did you text me?” he asks._

_“Ah, he speaks.” Woojin finishes the shot and places his glass on the plastic table. “Did you not want me to?”_

_This really wasn’t going how Chan expected it, but there was something about talking – or rather listening to Woojin talk – that was comforting even if he was slowly embarrassing himself more and more with each thing he’d say. “Well I’m kind of a stranger.”_

_“A stranger who stared at me without looking away once for thirty straight minutes. You didn’t even blink when I made eye contact with you.” Woojin grins. “Why can’t you look at me now when I’m sitting across from you?”_

_“You’re awful at flirting, hyung,” Hyunjin interrupts. “Mom wanted me to give her favorite customers tteokbokki on the house,” he explains. He looks between Chan and Woojin and then walks away while shaking his head._

_Chan chews on his lower lip, staring at the slightly steaming plate of rice cakes in front of him. “Do you think I’m creepy?”_

_“At first, yes. But now, I just think you’re cute.”_

_Chan’s head snaps up at that and he sees that Woojin’s eyebrows are raised, eyes gentle, lips curved into a small smile. “Me?” he asks._

_“Well, yeah. It’s kind of a dick move to call someone else cute when we’re on a date.” Woojin says it like it’s obvious, even shrugging for emphasis._

_Chan thinks, for a short moment, that maybe Woojin will be different._

 

Woojin thinks the inside of Chan’s apartment is a lot like him. Kind of bare, a little cold, but it feels right. He’s leaning against the wall, metal part of the bedframe digging slightly into his back. Chan is curled up on his lap, head fitted in the crook of his neck and arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His body is twisted kind of weird but Chan put himself that position willingly so he must have been okay with it. Woojin’s arms are circled around Chan’s back, one hand wrapped loosely around his neck and the other splayed out on his lower back. For Woojin, it’s kind of an uncomfortable position with the bedframe against his back, even with a pillow to cushion it, but Chan is comfortable and that’s all that matters. Woojin can feel the steady puffs of breath from the younger as he inhales and exhales. He’s sleeping, so Woojin takes the silence and time to think.

If he couldn’t find Chan today, this wouldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t be sitting here, holding Chan in his arms, and thanking every deity he knew for not letting Chan slip from his fingers.

Chan stirs beside him, letting out a quiet groan and nosing against Woojin’s neck. “Woojin?” His voice is deep with sleep and Woojin finds himself smiling softly at the familiar tone.

“Hey there. You knocked out.”

“I know. Am I heavy?”

“You’re fine.” The hand on Chan’s neck moves upward to scratch softly at his nape, just the way he likes it. Woojin can hear the faint sigh Chan lets out when he begins his ministrations. “Sleep well?”

“Better with you here.”

That makes Woojin falter. His fingers twitch but he resumes his actions before Chan can notice. A question sits heavy on his tongue, holding him down as he tightens his arms around Chan unconsciously. It’s as if he wants to make sure Chan is still in his arms.

“I’m sorry I left,” Chan whispers. “I was scared.”

Woojin can feel Chan’s lips move against his skin. “Of what?”

“Not being enough. You not wanting me. Not loving me.” Chan sounds so fucking small, like a child getting scolded, that Woojin’s heart physically _aches_.

“Oh, Chan.” Woojin tugs lightly at the hair between his fingers so Chan can look at him. “Hey, look at me.” When he meets Chan’s eyes for a hundredth time that day, he sees a child cowering in fear. “You are more than enough for me, alright? You are perfect. I love you so much, I can’t explain it in words.”

Chan blinks slowly, like he’s processing and then lowers his head. “Don’t you hate me for leaving?”

“I told you I understood, didn’t I? I know you’re scared, Chan. I know you’ve been hurting all this time, but I promise, _promise_ you that it’ll be different this time around.”

“You won’t leave?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“Stay.”

 

Chan wakes before Woojin does. Instead of getting up though, he lays there, basking in the warmth of Woojin’s skin against his. It’s Woojin who is clinging onto him today, arm slung across his chest and legs tangled in Chan’s own. It’s a nice feeling, to be held instead of holding. Chan shifts onto his side, blinking slowly to get the sleep out of his eyes. The world is kind of blurry but Woojin is all he sees. He traces the other man’s features, from the gentle slope of his nose to the curve of his jaw, to the slight stubble under his chin.

Chan wonders if this is what love is. To wake up, to feel like he belongs, to be held, to be enough.

Woojin’s nose twitches and then his eyes slowly open. Chan finds the corner of his lips lifting on its own accord when he meets Woojin’s eyes.

“Morning, Channie.”

“Morning, Woojin.”

Woojin’s lips are soft, and Chan knows that love feels like.

 

Chan mumbles a, “can we talk?” just as Woojin pulls away from his lips.

Woojin expected this conversation to happen sooner or later, but definitely not as he was tugging off his shirt. If those words weren’t enough to kill the mood, Chan’s unsure expression as he gazes up at Woojin tells him that maybe tonight wasn’t a good night to be doing this. So Woojin acquiesces, dropping the hem of his shirt and leaning down to press a soft kiss to Chan’s forehead. “Yeah.”

Chan turns onto his side, resting his head on a folded arm on his pillow. Woojin mirrors him, except he props his head up with one arm while the other one slips under Chan’s shirt to rub circles into his side with a thumb. “Can you tell me exactly what we are?” Chan murmurs. He can’t seem to make eye contact, and his cheeks are pink like he’s embarrassed to be asking.  “I want to know if we’re on the same page.”

“Chan, we can be whatever you want us to be.”

Chan scrunches his nose at the vague answer. “What if I want too much?”

“What’s your definition of ‘too much?’” Woojin’s hand stills and he waits for Chan to ponder on his answer. “Chan, you can trust me with this, you know that right?” Chan mumbles something under his breath that Woojin can’t make out. “What? Speak up, Channie.”

His mouth opens to speak but then he closes it again. Chan chews on his lower lip, tugging at loose skin with his teeth. “I want to trust you with everything, but I’m scared,” he finally confesses. “I’m scared all of your words are empty. Promises are easy to break because they’re just words. There’s nothing holding you back.”

In the dim light of the room, lit by nothing but the lamp on the nightstand behind him, Woojin sees that Chan has that look on his face again. His eyebrows are knitted together, lips pursed in uncertainty. Woojin lifts his hand from Chan’s side and pokes his nose. “I don’t know much about how many broken promises you’ve experienced but I can promise you that I always try my damn hardest to keep my word. Chan, you’re too precious to me to break.”

But despite his words, Chan doesn’t seem convinced. “But how will I _know_? They all tell me the same thing. They all say ‘I love you’ and then after getting tired of me, they tell me that I’m not enough. Woojin, I don’t know if I can do that again.” He tucks his chin towards his chest, hiding his face in his hands. “I really want to tell you I love you but I don’t know if you really feel the same.” Behind his fingers, his voice sounds more broken than ever. “For once, I just want to know what it’s like to be enough. I’m so scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I wasn’t.” Chan feels Woojin’s large hands wrapping around his wrists and tugging his hands away from his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling hot tears leak out of the corners of his eyes involuntarily.

“Bang Chan. Look at me.”

Chan shakes his head petulantly. He curls his legs up to put more space between them. There’s an overwhelming sense of fear washing over him and he can’t think straight. He just wants to breathe but he can’t when all he can think of is the crushing feeling of being abandoned. Chan lets out a choked sob and shakes his head again.

“Chan, I love you.”

Chan lets out a whimper at that wretched word. He flinches when he feels Woojin pull him closer. His wrists are still in Woojin’s grasp, so he can’t do much to push him away. All he can do is make himself as small as possible in hopes that Woojin will give it up. He knows he’s being contradictory, but this is all he’s known. Chan’s only ever run away. The last four times he fell into this trap, he ended up nursing his own wounds and never really forgetting about the scars that were left behind. A part of him wants to believe Woojin is being genuine, but his previous experience tells him that it’ll all crumble into pieces. _He’ll_ crumble into pieces.

Chan doesn’t register the fact that Woojin has let go of his wrists until warm fingers are wiping away his tears and he’s being kissed like the world was about to end. Woojin whispers “I love you,” against his lips. “You are more than enough. You’re worth more than your pain.”

If the world ended in that moment, Chan thinks he would have been fine with it.

 

_The drive to Woojin’s place is awkward. Chan knows exactly what he’s getting himself into but at the same time, he’s not quite sure if he’s ready for it. At least the one thing he knows for sure is that he’s ready to erase Minho and Yeseo and Hyojin and Jaemin. But especially Minho._

_The name itself leaves a bitter taste in Chan’s mouth._

_“Hey, you’re sure about this right? You look tense.” Woojin gives Chan a lopsided smile. “If you want to back out, we can watch a movie or something or I’ll just take you home.”_

_Chan shakes his head, though his hands are trembling slightly. “No, I want it.”_

_“Fallen for me already?”_

_“You wish.”_

_Their banter is playful and does loads to soothe Chan’s unruly thoughts. Woojin seems sweet. Even if tonight doesn’t end up well, Chan will at least have the satisfaction of knowing that for one night, he was enough for Woojin to take home. He will have forgotten about Minho for at least tonight._

_Because as he’s being kissed into oblivion and feeling bare skin against his own, Chan won’t have to think about how Minho, his best friend and boyfriend of many years, left him in the dust for another man._

The term “lovers” has always been ambiguous. Chan didn’t like to call himself philosophical but he finds himself ruminating over the word “love” a lot after Woojin leaves for work. What did it entail? How much of yourself are you supposed to give up? How much should you expect in return? Is there a line that shouldn’t be crossed? With not many very positive experiences, Chan knows that all of the answers to those questions won’t be the right ones. What did Woojin want from him? What were they supposed to do now? When would Woojin get sick of him? Was what they had love or was he misinterpreting the situation? There were so many thoughts left unanswered and not enough answers to go around.

Woojin tells him that they’ll be whatever he wants them to be, but what if Chan isn’t even sure what he wants?

Honestly, all of these questions are giving him the biggest fucking headache of his life. Chan curls up in bed instead, hugging Woojin’s pillow to his chest as he buries himself under the blankets. If he’s warm and comfortable, he won’t have to think so much about how cold the world is to people who have too much love to give but a heart too small to hold it all in.

That’s how Woojin finds him when he comes back from work. He’s tired of sitting in front of a computer all day but seeing Chan – or the lump he’s currently forming on the bed under the blanket – makes it better. Woojin approaches where he can make Chan’s head out to be and lifts the blanket, grinning when the other blinks a few times before breaking out in his own smile. “Hey there.”

“You’re back.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t leave out the chicken to defrost so I guess we’re ordering takeout tonight.”

Chan closes his eyes when Woojin kisses his forehead. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pull out the menus.” Woojin slides his hands under Chan’s body and pulls him into a sitting position. “Come on, you’re choosing.”

Chan feels his inside fill with a warm sort of feeling, light and comfortable. He takes one more look at Woojin, noticing the way his front teeth peek out between his lips and feeling giddier on the inside when Woojin seems to smile even bigger. He raises his arms, melting into Woojin’s chest when the older rolls his eyes and lifts him off the bed onto his feet.

“Alright big baby, let’s get dinner.” Woojin chuckles as Chan wraps his legs around him and hooks his ankles together so he’s latched on. Woojin’s hands brace themselves on the backs of Chan’s thighs to hold him up. Chan has a pretty wide frame, but he’s kind of small and fits perfectly in Woojin’s arms. “You’re heavy,” he jokes, yelping when Chan whacks his heel into Woojin’s tailbone. “I’m going to drop you!” He pretends to let go, dipping Chan over the edge of the bed. His laughter joins in with Chan’s yells at him to stop.

It’s then that Chan realizes that he doesn’t really feel like he’s giving up anything to be with Woojin. He doesn’t feel like he’s doing all the giving for once. Woojin reciprocates, Woojin feels with heart, Woojin loves with his everything. Woojin doesn’t expect anything in return for the love he gives. Woojin doesn’t need a plan to figure out their life together, as long as they were _together_.

 “I want you to be mine,” Chan whispers into Woojin’s ear when they straighten up again. He rests his head on Woojin’s shoulder, warm breath fanning over his collarbone.

“Yeah?” Woojin tightens his arms around Chan’s body.

“I want to be yours.”

“We’ll be whatever you want us to be, love.”

 

_Chan doesn’t jerk awake like he usually does. That should have been the first sign that something wasn’t right. Instead, his eyes open slowly, somehow not bothered by the soft sunlight that filters through the thin curtains. He vaguely takes in his surroundings, finally realizing that he definitely was not wearing a shirt – or anything for that matter – since all of his clothes were folded neatly and placed on a chair. There was another pile of clothes sitting next to it with a little note on top._

_Folded? Neatly? What the fuck?_

_Chan slaps his cheeks lightly with both hands and closes his eyes to count to five before he opens them again. Nope. Two piles. Clothes are still folded neatly. The thought makes him let out a cough as he chokes on his own spit. He looks over to the other side of the bed. He runs his hands over the sheets, cringing internally when he feels cool fabric. Woojin must have been awake for a while now._

_This really wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be an easy break. A way to forget bitter memories for one night. An escape from the nightmares of hearing his heart shatter and the blurry figure of Minho with his hands all over someone else. But Chan had to go a fuck it up by oversleeping out of all things. This really was going to pain in the ass to get out of._

_Chan slips out of the bed, groaning softly at the soreness in his limbs. His clothes smell like detergent and are faintly warm to the touch. Damn, Woojin got up early to do laundry? Chan would have fallen for something as simple as that if he wasn’t currently nursing an already bruised heart. He looks over at the second stack of clothes and plucks off the little note and squints to read it. “They might be big, but I thought skinny jeans would be uncomfortable,” it reads. Woojin had even added a little wink face that has Chan snorting. Truth be told, Chan contemplated putting them on for a good minute before he remembered that_ this was supposed to be a one-night stand dumbass _. That gets him squeezing into his skinny jeans at nine a.m. on a Sunday with the sole intention of escaping this house and crying his eyes out in the cold comfort of his own bed._

_He pats the phone in his pocket, checks for keys, and fixes his hair in the mirror before shuffling out. Maybe he could make a quiet escape, just slip out of the front door and disappear before Woojin notices. If he’s lucky, Woojin might not even be home. Chan considers leaving a note, but that would probably spur Woojin into thinking that he wants to meet again, and Chan doesn’t know if he’s ready for that type of commitment just yet._

_But of course, it doesn’t work out, and he walks right into Woojin just as he steps food into the hallway._

_“Oh you’re awake!” Woojin scans him for a second before he frowns slightly. “Did you not see the clothes I left out for you?”_

_Chan can’t seem to close his mouth because he’s literally speechless._ Nothing _was going to plan. Chan thinks maybe he shouldn’t plan anything anymore since they all go to shit anyway. “I – I was just on my way –” He cuts himself off before he can embarrass himself further and gestures at the door instead. He can see his beat-up Converse sitting neatly on the doormat, though he distinctly remembers struggling to kick them off last night. Chan can’t look at Woojin, doesn’t want to see what kind of face he’s making right now. His mind is cloudy because he’s close to the kitchen and whatever Woojin made for breakfast smells really good and Woojin is kind of in sweats and a simple t-shirt and looking really nice and Chan kind of wants to melt into a puddle._

_“Oh.”_

_Chan looks up at that because Woojin sounds more confused than insulted and that’s not usually what happens after you run into the person you’re trying to run from. “Oh,” he echoes._

_“At least stay for breakfast? I made a lot of food.”_

 

When you’ve been bruised and battered from the world, it’s hard to believe that it won’t fail you again. But if Woojin becomes Chan’s world, he’s sure it won’t let him down this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far! I somehow only worked on this after midnight so it's kind of messy, but I hope it made sense. This is my first SKZ work so please let me know how you feel!


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